


They Say We Can Love Who We Trust (But What Is Love Without Lust?)

by Macx



Category: Grimm (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bonding, Claiming, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-01
Updated: 2012-03-07
Packaged: 2017-10-31 23:18:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/349428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Macx/pseuds/Macx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Renard was indirectly threatened by the reapers to keep Nick in line or get rid of him (episode 1.10). In their eyes, he needs to be taught a lesson. Renard doesn't take lightly to being trapped and attacked. Nick in turn doesn't like being lied to by a man he thought he could trust.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The fic is based on a grimm-kink prompt to have some more Renard h/c in this world. I think I hit that spot :)
> 
> Renard's creature side, the regnant, is based on my fic Drifting in Shadows, Waiting for the Storm. I fell in love with my own interpretation of what he might be.

It had been a monumentally stupid idea. Continentally stupid. It would go down into the history books as being the worst thing a regnant had ever done.

Sean Renard was a regnant.

And right now he wondered when his brain had decided to take a leave of absence and hand over decision-making to his instincts. Probably right around the time he had lost track of logic and common sense somewhere in the miasma of primal surges.

Yep, had to be that.

Blood tracked down his skin, dripping into the ground.

Idiot, he scolded himself.

He had gone into this mess like a young, blood-thirsty warrior, not a seasoned Guardian of a city, someone who had claimed a territory and had protected and defended it successfully in the past.

The pain was more or less bearable. He could take a lot, had taken a lot in the past, but seeing that he wouldn't be able to count on anyone coming to his aid, this time was different.

The cuts were deep, messy, and maybe even a lot more than his body could cope with right now. He had at least two broken ribs and his hand didn't like him very much right now. Calling the sharp needles shooting from his wrist 'bothersome twinges' would be lying.

He was good at lying to himself.

He was dangerously exhausted, losing blood, and pretty much on his own since no one knew where he was.

'Fucked up' summed up his day so far.

And his head hurt.

Probably that blow to the head that would have split any other creature's skull, but regnant's were tough. Very tough. And Renard wasn't new at the game, just… surprised that anyone had had the guts to try and trap him.

It had been an elaborate trap, granted. They had taken care to throw him the right bait, lure him to this place with the perfect incentives.

Well, they had paid with their lives, but he was paying in blood.

Renard laughed, a breathy, wet sound that was barely audible. His good hand picked at the tatters of what had been his dress shirt and now resembled barely a rug. Bloody and torn and clinging to his skin because of the dark red liquid. Underneath the red was his skin, shifting colors between dark copper, bronze and burnt gold.

Not good.

He was losing control of himself as the pain took over, as instinct once again pushed at the boundaries set by control and logic.

There was a sound.

Footsteps.

The regnant pulled back lips over growing fangs, eyes the color of burning embers flared.

Renard was trying to regain control, but his creature side was now in full possession and it acted.

Muscles tensed, ready to unleash the last burst of power, ready to tear apart the new threat; add to the body count.

Talons grew, sharp and black and able to tear through armored skin.

The footsteps came closer.

The regnant rumbled softly, barely loud enough for anyone to hear.

A figure appeared.

He launched himself forward, colliding with a softer, human form, and bringing them down.

Claws buried in clothing that wouldn't protect the other, biting into flesh.

* * *

Knowing what Renard had done had nearly given Detective Nick Burckhardt a coronary. Then the anger had come, hot and racing through his veins like liquid fire. It had eradicated everything for a split second and he had been so close to hitting a wall with his fist. 

Idiot!

Moron!

Half-brained jerk!

Who did he think he was? Who did he think he was going out here alone?

The anger had fueled the Grimm, had driven Nick into going after someone who was very well able to take care of himself; under normal circumstances.

These weren’t normal circumstances!

And he had to hear it from a hexenbiest of all people!

Adalind had looked at him with an expression that was a mixture of worry and fear when Nick had nearly lost it, then pointed him into the right direction.

“I’m going to kill him when I find him!” the Grimm had snarled and stalked off.

Now, an hour later, the anger had made way for worry. Well, mostly. Some of it had remained, gnawing at him because Sean Renard, protector of the Portland Territory, had decided to deal with something that was Nick’s to handle. He had involved himself in Grimm matters.

Well, okay, he was also involved with the Grimm in question, but Nick had always been able to fight his own fights. He didn’t need a champion, least of all the very creature and regnant he was mated to.  
Monroe would never let him live it down if he heard about how the big bad-ass creature had turned Nick into the girl in this relationship.

He hissed a curse and checked his gun.

“He’s so dead!”

*

Nick had barely a moment to realize what was coming, then he went down hard, the breath knocked out of his lungs, his back screaming, stars exploding in front of his eyes. He had a second to look into the inhuman eyes in a face that was clearly not human either, then his gun went flying and he was facing sharp teeth and even sharper claws.

The weight on his chest was making it hard to breathe.

“No,” he managed.

The snarling face drew back, the eyes narrowing.

“Don’t.”

He knew he was bleeding from where the talons had scraped open skin, but the pain was small and far from his mind right now.

Nick met the burning eyes, trying to find a shred of humanity, a shred of who the creature was when instinct was tamed and hidden behind the human façade.

“Sean,” he whispered.

The regnant drew back as if slapped, wings snapping open and showing Nick the sick result of the confrontation the other man had gone through. Tattered, bleeding, torn…

How was he even conscious, let alone strong enough to still fight?

The answer was simple: adrenaline. Epinephrine. Two names, same stuff.

A wonderful substance. A way to overcome pain and fatigue, to be momentarily on top of the world, able to do what the body was theoretically too weak or too much in pain to do. 

Pain.

Ignoring pain.

Adrenaline helped. That and stress and worry and fear. 

Adrenaline was your friend.

Renard used it and Nick was currently the chosen target for this burst of primal aggression.

Fight to survive. Fight the enemy. But Nick wasn’t the enemy. Nick was his mate.

“You know me,” he said softly. “You know who I am.”

 

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

Nostrils flared.

The fangs were dangerously close.

“You trust me. Sean…”

Blood was dripping from the terrible injuries to the elegant wings, the skin in a bad shape. Nick wondered if he could heal this without help.

“Nick.”

It was a breath, a whisper, barely more than a moan. The wings dropped, the regnant’s head sagged, and Nick touched the smooth skin of Sean’s face, sliding his fingers over the neck and shoulder.

“Sean,” he repeated.

Renard exhaled sharply, starting to tremble.

“Let go. I’ve got you.”

No more enemies to fight. All taken care of. The regnant had defended his territory, his city, and he had made an example of his challengers.

"It's okay. You're safe. No one will harm you. No one."

And then Renard collapsed, managing to fall away from the smaller man as not to smother him.

Nick was on his feet and leaning over Renard, watching the features shift back into human form. Renard’s face twisted in a grimace of pain and Nick grabbed one hand, feeling the fingers squeeze his hard.

“It’s okay. I got you,” he murmured.

The intense green eyes were on his, demanding, asking, wanting to know. The Grimm smiled reassuringly.

And then, as if it had been enough, the regnant slipped away, eyes closing and consciousness fading.

Nick briefly closed his eyes, adrenaline pounding through his veins. He had seen the carnage as he had picked his way through the labyrinthine alleyways of the abandoned storage housing. A long time ago this had been well-rented, but now it was nothing but a heap of rusting buildings and dangerously leaning walls.

Renard had fought off a dozen or maybe more reapers and they hadn’t gone down easily.

Broken scythes. Broken bones. Torn bodies with shattered scythes sticking in them.

Nick hadn’t counted, but he suspected more than a dozen dead.

And Renard, injured and bleeding.

Nick sighed softly and took out his cell. He needed back-up. Trusted back-up.

* * *

He watched the injured man sleep. Wounds cleaned and wrapped, broken bones set as best as he could, and Monroe had handed him some herbal medicines to speed along the self-healing.

Blutbaden were good at recovering from injuries and sickness, he had told Nick. As were most creatures of the Grimm world. Renard was no different and his healing abilities were more than a match for a blutbad’s. He simply needed rest.

So now he was at Nick’s home, in a bed they had shared often before.

Monroe had snarked and muttered and mumbled about being cheap hired help, that he had a life and a job and it didn’t involve regnants and Grimms and mated pairs. Well, he had been involved in Nick’s Grimm life for a while now. With Nick getting closer to Renard, with the sudden revelation as to who and what exactly the police captain truly was, Monroe hadn’t been able to extract himself from that involvement.

Not that he had ever tried, Nick mused.

Not even after he had found out that Nick swung both ways, had chosen his very male captain as a lover, and that the aforementioned captain was actually a very powerful and rare creature.

Monroe had teased Nick for ages after that particular revelation, especially since Nick hadn’t really seen the other side until Renard had dropped his shields. He was that good.

But after that…

Nick smiled slightly to himself.

It had been… intense; leading up to a moment where everything had changed, had become as it should be.

 

_“I know what I want, Sean.”_

_“You don’t understand. This wouldn’t be just sex. It’s mating.”_

_“Yes.”_

_“For life.”_

_“I know.”_

_“For good.”_

_“Sean, I know.”_

_“We’re both men…”_

_“Know that, too.”_

_“Pairs with two dominants… don’t work,” Sean breathed._

_Nick smiled. “We’ll figure it out.”_

_The regnant was dominant because of his power. Nick could be a dominant human; control was part of his job. Getting together… it would be more of a fight than anything else._

_Renard wanted him. Nick could see it. With every breath, with every heartbeat, he wanted him. the lust of their prior encounters had turned into something more intense, something more… more private and intimate…_

_Nick had fallen for the other man. Hard. And he wanted him as more than a bed-partner. He wanted him… for good. Only him._

_Renard’s breath caught in his throat at the image of what those fights might be like, what pleasures could be derived from making Nick his._

 

It had been the most intense pleasure he had ever felt, a moment shared between them that had revealed everything, their darkest desires, their lust, their love, and he had been breathless.

The regnant had found his mate in the Grimm, had protected him for that sole reason before, without even realizing why.

His mate.

Now he had defended not only his territory but also his Grimm against the reapers.

Nick was drawn between the warmth and fury.

Looking at the still face, bruised and battered but healing, he let the fury fade away. He would give Renard a piece of his mind concerning this lone ranger, knight in shining armor kind of behavior, but not now.

Now he had to let the regnant heal.

“You okay?”

He looked up and gave Monroe a tired smile. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way.”

The blutbad shrugged. “Think nothing of it.”

“But I do. You were the only one I could trust.”

“He has a whole army of hexenbiester to serve him,” Monroe reminded him, shifting a little uncomfortably.

“And right now I wouldn’t want any of them near him,” Nick replied.

“Yeah, probably.”

“Go home, Monroe. I’ve got it here.”

“Sure?”

Nick nodded.

“Okay. But call, okay? Anything at all, you call.”

“I will.” Nick smiled again, warmed by the offer, by the friendship. “Thanks.”

Monroe left, the door pulling closed behind him, and Nick settled in for the wait.

tbc...


	3. Chapter 3

He woke with a start, ready to fight, senses immediately stretching to take in his surroundings, also taking stock of his body.

Broken bones, healing, grinding slightly against each other. Cuts and abrasions and bite marks. Wounds made by knives and talons and scythes. The latter ones hurt like a bitch and healed the slowest.

A hand touched his wrist and Renard just about caught himself from burying talons in soft human flesh. Fiery orange eyes met gray ones.

"You're safe," the Grimm only said, voice even.

He looked at the other man for a very long second, then relaxed marginally.

"Where am I?" he asked, voice rough.

"My home."

Renard's senses slowly filtered the information. Yes. Nick's home. Renard's territory. A safe and secure place. He had made it so, had made sure the Grimm was always safe when he was here. After Stark's attack, after Nick had landed in the hospital, just before the two men had gotten together, Renard had marked the house as under his protection.

Now he spent as much time here as he did at his own place. It was familiar ground, his scent everywhere, intermingling with Nick's, and he enjoyed the homey feel as compared to the cold functionality of the house he used as a cover for his mundane human life.

Finally he sank back. "My apologies," he murmured.

His body ached and he knew the injuries must have been a lot worse than he had thought if he was still not back in shape. There was a lance of pain from his back and that originated from his hidden wings. Two reapers had tried to cripple him by slicing into the large appendages with their weapons of choice.

They hadn't come far in their attempts and their body parts had littered the floor soon enough.

"No problem. You want something to drink?"

He took the offered bottle, the sweet taste of iced tea making him grimace. He knew the sugar was good for him, but it tasted vile.

"How bad?" Renard asked.

"Bad enough."

He studied the young features, the pale skin framed by dark hair, and Renard knew he had screwed this up just a little bit.

Okay, maybe more than a little bit.

Maybe a lot.

"Who took care of the bodies?" he wanted to know.

Usually he dealt with his own… garbage. Nick had never had to cover up death and carnage like that. He was a new kind of Grimm, the kind Renard had protected before the younger man had even gotten involved with him.

"Taken care of," Nick replied briskly. At Renard's silently quizzical look he added, "Sort of. Scavengers."

Ah. The regnant knew them. All kinds of low-life creatures scavenged on the dead and the dying. Like geier, like rodent wesen. He simply wondered when Nick had cultivated those kinds of contacts.

Maybe because he was the catch-and-release kind of hunter? Maybe he had claimed loyalties that Renard hadn't seen before? It was intriguing and he would dig deeper, find out just how Nick had pulled it off.

Amused gray eyes looked at him, the detective apparently very well aware of that train of thought.

"In my line of work I get to know… people," he answered the unspoken question. "Monroe knew some more and called for their help, too."

"The network you have is impressive."

"It's not a network." Nick shook his head and suddenly the young face was all-serious again. "Next time you want to play knight in shining armor, let the assumed damsel in distress know."

"It was a trap, Nick."

"Exactly."

"They would have killed you."

"You don't know that."

"Nick…"

The Grimm moved faster than Renard would have thought, straddling him, daring him. "I'm a Grimm, regnant," he stated coldly. "You once told me just what that means. I'm not a weak link!"

Renard placed a still-taloned hand on the slim hips. "No, you're not."

"We're in this together. You made it so, Sean! You wanted this! So work with it, not against me!"

"I can't let them kill you."

Nick leaned forward, anger swimming over his features. "I won't let them kill me. I'm not going to lay down and bare my throat."

Renard nearly dug his claws into the jeans-clad hips at the image. His eyes went to the pale column of flesh and the hunger came forth.

Nick leaned closer, smiling darkly. "You may be the most powerful creature in this territory, and it is your protectorate, Sean, and you claimed me, too, but it doesn't make you my boss when it comes to Grimm matters."

No, he wasn't the boss. He had no say in the matter. Police work, yes. Grimm? No. Definite no.

Grimms weren't to be controlled, whatever the ferat demanded. Whatever they thought was possible. You could guide them, but only where they wanted to go. Renard wasn't this Grimm's master and never would be.

And no, he wasn't turned on by the other man hovering over him.

Instincts begged to differ, ignoring the twinges of pain, the unaccustomed weakness.

It was like their mating, that unrestrained encounter of two predators, about to bind themselves to the other for life.

There was no doubt in his mind who would top who. And the challenge that the Grimm presented was an intoxicating thought.

He growled.

From Nick's expression he knew his eyes were changing. Fiery orange; molten fire.

Their mouths collided in a kiss that was far from gentle. It was possessive and spiraling out of control, like the whole encounter.

His inhibitions went out of the window fast when Nick gently bit his neck. He grabbed his future mate and pushed him against the wall, growling, pinning the Grimm's hands. He took in the scent, nostrils flaring, and he knew there was no hesitation, no fear, no second thoughts. Here was a ready offer, and he would take it.

Now.

The next thing he knew, Nick had pushed him against the wall and his mouth was thoroughly ravaged by the other man. Renard curled his fingers into the waistband of his future mate's pants, drawing him closer, his tongue battling against Nick's for dominance. His whole body was high strung, on the verge of overpowering the younger man, showing him what he was dealing with – what he was about to let go.

It was a primitive need, something from very deep inside him, something that targeted the Grimm as its victim, its prey, while also recognizing it as a fellow hunter and dominant male.

The regnant hissed, the lust for the other man growing in leaps.

They separated, breathing hard, eyes wild and dilated. A flush covered Nick's naturally pale skin and his hair looked unruly. He had never looked more desirable and a longing rose with the desire, a longing so primal it shut out everything else. Their bodies were pressed together and Renard's hands were splayed over the other's tight buttocks. Something seemed to fizz through him, sizzle along his nerves, settling way down south.

The regnant growled demandingly, wanting to be lose, to get what it needed.

Renard drew the Grimm into a searing kiss that grew more demanding with every second. He was acutely aware of Nick's body against his, so perfect, so familiar, but still very new and exciting. His desire rose several notches.

Thoughts collided with each other, tumbling around in his head.

They were still kissing, clawing at each other, then suddenly Nick tilted his head back and the primal side in Renard howled in triumph at the simple gesture of surrender. He felt rational thought blend into the background, instinct taking over, and the wildness was free. Raw need merged with primal power to mate.

He thought he heard Nick cry out with the same need, then he was drowned out by static as the regnant took a hold and claimed his mate.

"Stop trying to solve my problems, Sean!"

The sharp words drew the taller man out of the pleasurable thoughts of the final mating. Even today, months later, it was still something to jerk off to under the shower when Nick wasn't there. If he was, he liked to repeat that moment.

In detail.

And Nick never complained.

"No."

"What?"

"The reapers are my problem, too. As you so rightly said, it's my territory. I'm the Guardian. My protectorate, my responsibility. I keep Portland safe my own way."

Nick stared at him, face set. "Then bring me in on it. Leaving me out of the loop is only making it worse."

From where Renard was lying, it didn't look worse. It looked very… interesting.

"It's mostly politics," he said, slightly absent-minded as he took stock of his body.

He was weaker than normal, which made him about average human strength. The scars itched, the scabs were bothersome, and the broken bones, while healed, were tender. He wouldn't be able to go another round against a pack of reapers right now, but other physical activity wasn't off the table.

Not at all.

"I know you're a scheming bastard," Nick snarled. "I know you've been working behind the scenes. I know you think you can keep me out of it, but I'm not some prize to be claimed or a token of royalty or someone's possession, Renard!"

Ah, last name. His Grimm was pissed.

"You're a warrior, Nick, not a politician."

"So are you, your highness."

And didn't that sound like mockery?

Renard grinned, liking the wave of aggression and anger and lust. It was their definition, those opposing forces, those different views of the creature world, and still they had very much in common, not just physical attraction.

Speaking of which…

One hand brushed over the t-shirt covered chest, to the hem, then slipped underneath to encounter naked skin. The taut stomach fluttered under his caress and white teeth bit the lower lip, as Nick suppressed a sound of pleasure.

"You told me Grimms were once arbitrators," Nick continued, though his voice was laced with the echoes of want and lust Renard felt himself. "You said we weren't judge and jury, only the police. We were the profilers. It's what I do. I work with you, regnant of Portland, not for you or against you!"

And he slept with him. He didn't fuck, he didn't put out, he didn't sell his body for pleasure. Nick was strong and independent and no one's fool. He was a powerful and strong-willed equal, a worthy mate, his mate.

Renard smiled calmly.

"You're my boss at work," Nick whispered harshly. "But outside, when it comes to Grimm stuff, you're not! And you're not my protector!"

"I'll remember that," he rumbled.

tbc...


	4. Chapter 4

The regnant knew how to fight dirty. He also knew Nick wouldn't just succumb to a little teasing and quick pleasure. He had had months to study Nick Burckhardt after his aunt had died, had seen how he had grown. He had had more months to fuck him and have Nick return the favor. And he had had the last three months to claim the man's love because that was what it had ultimately come down to. Sean Renard had fallen in love, against better judgment, and the Grimm had returned the feelings.

"Sean…" There was a warning in that one word. The danger was there.

He enjoyed it.

Exploring the texture of the skin, he let his fingers trace along the ribs, down to the navel, where he drew a hiccupping breath out of the Grimm.

Nick leaned down and slanted his mouth over Renard's, the kiss hard and demanding and very much Grimm. The regnant responded, guiding his mate's tongue along the still present fangs, wanting more, wanting it all, wanting… wanting the Grimm completely. He wanted to renew the claim, taste the blood of the only one who complemented him so perfectly.

There was rarely anything apprehensive between them. It was giving and taking, sometimes demanding, and Renard liked it that way. Straight-forward. No questions, no insecurities. It was them, together, relieving stress and need and sometimes a deep, intense desire. Like right now.

Seeing Nick so intense, all Grimm, had launched his need and he took what he wanted. Renard buried his hands in the dark hair as they kissed and gave a growl as Nick pulled back. Gray eyes sparked with fire, a challenge.

Renard took it, delivering little bites along Nick's chin until he reached the point where the neck joined the shoulder. The Grimm moaned, then yelped as the regnant bit down. He drew a little blood; he had brought his point across.

Again the very human eyes flared, the challenge not yet abating. Nick stripped off his shirt, giving the Renard a very nice and very much appreciated view of pale, firm chest with a spattering of hair.

His fingers nimbly started with the button and zipper of Nick's jeans.

Kisses were exchanged, hungry and sloppy and stoking the fire. Renard abandoned the open zipper for the hard nipples that just cried for his attention. He flicked a tongue over the buds. When he added the dangerously sharp talons, Nick inhaled suddenly, groaning. Renard grinned darkly and let the tip of one claw circle the nipple.

Nick gazed at him, gray eyes filled with dark hunger and lust. Restraints were falling away fast, the Grimm that was an integral part of Nick Burckhardt surging up and taking over. Nick had embraced his heritage, had started to listen to instinct and rely on the power that made him what he was. He couldn't shift or change; he had no magic. But he was a Grimm and that made him top of the food chain.

Renard would make the most of it. He liked to make Nick writhe and beg, and to watch his eyes dilate, his breathing quicken, and then his climax. He liked to see the dangerous predator the Grimm was surge to meet him, hard and strong and demanding, and so very well-fit to be his mate.

"God, you're killing me!" Nick panted.

"Not even there yet," Renard growled.

In one swift move he had the other flipped onto his back, straddling him, pinning him down. His formerly broken ribs, now only bruised, protested, but he ignored the sharp reminder of the fight.

Sight of his mate pushed all of that away.

Gray eyes, dilated and overflowing with need, met green ones. Renard licked his lips at the sight. He knew he was dominant in his relationship, but only by a hair's breadth. He needed control. Nick had managed to make him lose it time and again, and he was just as strong-willed as Renard could be. It was why he wanted that man, in every way possible. Not to break him, never to be submissive, but to fight and show just what was inside him.

And there was a lot.

Renard shuddered at the memories of prior encounters. Especially when Nick had taken him, leaving marks on his skin, leaving bites.

Damn!

"Clothes off," Nick now whispered.

Good plan. Actually, a very good plan.

He was bare-chested, but the pants were still on. Too tight for his comfort right now and in the way. Definitely in the way.

Renard stood, gazing down at the prone man as he stripped off his clothes, and he smiled appreciatively as Nick wriggled out of his own pants and shoes.

Lithe, athletic, all sinewy and the right amount of muscle, naturally pale and looking so very ready – Renard let his eyes wander over the handsome physique, smiling more. His eyes stopped at the prominent arousal, and when he knelt down again, he ran a feather-light teasing caress over the length.

Nick pushed himself up on his elbows and Renard leaned forward, taking the familiar lips into a hard kiss as his left hand wrapped around the Grimm's erection, stroking it firmly. His mate moaned his approval.

"Want you," Nick whispered against his lips as they parted. "Now."

Renard grinned, straddling the strong thighs and taking another kiss as his own. He wanted Nick just as much, but he wanted to play a little longer. So he busied himself with every hot spot he knew, until he reached the center of Nick's need and licked along the hot shaft, drawing beautiful sounds of need and desire.

"Sean, please!"

Nick always tried to resort to begging to spurn him into taking him, and sometimes it worked. Right now Renard was hard-pressed not to just do what he wanted and take the willing body as his. Meeting the dilated eyes, he blew his plans into the wind.

He needed this.

They needed this.

Lube was always within easy reach. Nick rolled onto his stomach as Renard snapped the lid of the tube open, pushing himself up on hands and knees.

Renard groaned silently at the sight. Good god, the man was trying to break him!

Preparation was almost rough and Nick whispered encouragements as Renard pushed two fingers into him, scissoring them, finally making it three. The younger man was panting, growling as the preparation went too long for his liking, but then Renard pushed into him with one smooth, long move, and he cried out.

"Sean, god, yes!"

Renard wrapped his arms around his mate's chest and pulled him up, hips pushing forward to bury himself deeper into the willing body. Nick exhaled sharply, pushing back, groaning at the depth and hard penetration.

"Yes," he hissed.

Renard nibbled at the neck, trying to calm himself down, but when Nick clenched his muscles around him, he bit down and had the other man arch and hiss again.

"Goddamnit!"

So he wanted it fast and hard. Renard knew every tremor, every pant and breath, knew when to take it slow. They had made love, had been loving and gentle and had drawn it out for hours, but then there were moments like right now.

Renard's hips pulled back, then he pushed back inside. Nick's eyes were closed, his head arched back, his throat exposed, and Renard rocked back into him. Nick whimpered encouragements and his harsh whispers of 'harder' only spurned the regnant on. He let his mate sink back onto all fours and took the narrow hips, holding on, watching each muscle spasm, each shift, giving Nick what he wanted.

Reaching around with one hand, he tugged hard at the straining erection, and Nick moaned deeply. Slowing a little, Renard twisted his hips, moving in tiny circles, knowing it drove Nick wild, and the smoldering look he received only had him smile darkly. Pulling out and then resheathing himself deeply, had Nick close his eyes, mouth opening in a soundless gasp. Renard did it again and the Grimm's fingers clenched into the blanket.

"Sean…"

He leaned forward, licking over the dark bite mark, tasting blood. "Yes?"

"Stop teasing."

"I'd love to, but you're such a tease, Nick."

And if he could have it his way, he would tie his beautiful mate to a bed and fuck the living daylights out of him again and again. Renard needed this, he needed to get it out of his system, this need and possession. Nick met the fiery eyes with a knowing look, ass pushing into Renard's hips.

"I'm yours. Completely. Just us."

Yes, the man was trying to kill him. Renard moved hard into the tight heat and Nick sank forward, burying his head in his arms.

So ready. So willing, So much his.

"Don't hold back," Nick growled.

Renard couldn't any longer. His movements became hard and fast and rough and he took what he needed. His hoarse cry of completion was echoed by Nick, and they fell together in a heap, Renard still buried deep inside. He listened to Nick's pants, felt the hammering heartbeat under his palm, and his own body was telling him how good it had been.

Gray eyes met his, sated and relaxed and still so very much reflecting the hard core of the Grimm. It was an incredibly attractive feature, one the regnant responded to with a single-minded intensity. It was something he never grew tired of.

It was something he should fear; and he loved it every time.

"Got it out of your system?" Nick murmured, fingers playing over very human looking skin.

"Mostly," Renard rumbled, the primal side appeased but still whispering 'mineminemine'.

He let his claws grow, ran them in feather-light caresses over warm skin, and he listened to Nick's change in breathing, his heart beating faster, and he watched the young face with the ancient eyes as the Grimm looked at him with a calculated expression.

Nick rose on his elbows, leaned over him and claimed his mouth, reasserting that right now, he was the dominant in this encounter, despite the fact that Renard had fucked him through the mattress. Well, he had never doubted who was in control at all. Nick could put a stop to everything any time, and not even the regnant would be able to tame him.

Knowing fingers caressed his healed ribs, traced over fading scars of deep gashes.

Tomorrow nothing would be left. Just memories.

"How did you find me?" Renard asked.

The gray eyes reflected exasperation. "I'm still a detective."

Renard smiled. "Yes, that you are."

"And Adalind gave me a few ideas where to look. I also have people I can talk to. Not just you and Monroe." The pointed look had Renard nod.

Renard was silent.

"Which brings me back to what the fuck you thought you were doing, Sean."

"Protecting my territory."

"Making me what? Your royal consort? The weak link in that relationship you claim is one of equals?"

Nick had sat back and the regnant was briefly distracted by the glorious sight of naked skin and claim marks.

"You're not my enforcer!" Nick snapped, drawing him out of his appreciative thoughts about his mate. "You're not my bodyguard. I can fight my own damn fights!"

"This wasn't about you." At Nick's raised brows he amended, "Not solely. It was a challenge. My challenge."

"A trap," was the cool statement.

"Call it what you will, but it wasn't the first time my position was attacked. As Guardian others could challenge me."

"A bunch of reapers?"

"Yes."

"They did it because of me, right? Only because of me. You told me they want me either under control or dead. You didn't really follow protocol by mating with me."

Renard quirked a smile and sat up as well, his ribs barely twinging. "Making you my bonded mate theoretically binds you to me and my commands."

"Theoretically."

"They don't know that."

"They found out!" Nick snapped.

"And paid for it."

The gray eyes were deep and filled with an anger far from human; it was a Grimm thwarted from his own fight. Renard understood that to gain his standing in the creature world, Nick had worked hard and relentlessly. He was known not to be a killer. Word had spread that he was just and followed the law.

Renard had taken the fight from him, a fight to prove to the reapers that he wasn't prey. The regnant was pleased to have protected his mate, but the mate wasn't very appreciative because he was a predator, too.

"It won't happen again," he finally acquiesced.

Nick's expression was cool. "No, it won't."

Renard moved smoothly, pinning the smaller man back onto the mattress, letting his creature traits surface. Nick gazed at him, no fear or apprehension visible, just defiance and slow-burning lust.

"You're part of my territory," the regnant stated.

"I'm no one's property."

"You're my mate."

"And you're mine." Nick surged up, claiming the other man's lips in a hard, almost biting kiss.

Renard responded, the contact almost like a fight for dominance. Finally he drew back, grinning wide, showing fangs.

"Mine," he whispered.

"Mine," Nick echoed just as ferociously.

Yes, their mate bond was an unusual one, neither submitting fully to the other. Regnants never submitted. None ever had in the known history of their kind. They took their mates, always beta or lower, and that was that.

Nick wasn't beta. He wasn't submissive.

And in a way it was what Sean Renard had always wanted.

tbc...


	5. Chapter 5

Nick was asleep when he left the house. Renard felt no more powerful than before strength-wise, but still a lot better than mere hours ago. His teeth itched to sink into the enemy's flesh, his talons wanted to tear into soft skin, into armor and leather and protective gear, destroy those who had dared to challenge him.

Because the ones who had already died at his hands had been mere pawns.

Adalind was waiting in the shadows, her face calm, serene, beautiful, hiding her true nature. She inclined her head in a silent greeting. Two of her sisters were already in the SUV that waited around the corner, just as silent, just as serene and calm and respectful.

"You should wait until you have healed," Adalind said when they stopped in front of one of the more pricey addresses.

Renard's eyes were cold, not giving anything away. He was looking at the building, features rippling a little. It was the only confession to his currently not completely under control state of mind.

"It ends tonight," he only said and left the car.

Adalind and her two sisters followed, exchanging brief looks. Renard didn't care whether they thought he was fit for this confrontation or not. He was the Guardian of this city. The reapers had breached more than just one set of rules by attacking him.

It was time to make an example.

*

Monroe didn't have to ask who would knock at his door at six-freaking-thirty-in-the-morning. He yanked the door open, dressed in his work-out clothes, just about ready to start Pilates.

"Dude…"

Nick shot him an apologetic look as he slipped past the taller blutbad. The smell of fresh bagels and coffee accompanied him. Monroe doubted something bad had happened or else Nick wouldn't be here, calm and collected, interrupting his morning regimen.

"What?" Monroe asked, closing the door.

"I woke up, Sean was gone. I'm going to tear him a new one!"

Monroe frowned and slung the towel he had carried along around his neck. "Come again?"

"We talked… argued… when he woke up. About his lone ranger gig." Nick's whole body radiated tension and anger. "Now he's gone and I just know he's out there finishing whatever started this."

"He is the regnant of this territory," Monroe said slowly. "And you and I and a whole bunch of others, all of them creatures, know what that means, dude. He's the protector of his territory, the Guardian. I guess that whoever sent those reapers in after him, he overstepped a whole lot of boundaries last night. I wouldn't want to be in his shoes. Man, I wouldn't even be in this city, let alone the State, any longer!"

Nick glared at him.

"Not helping, I know." Monroe shrugged. "But that's what this is. Regnant politics and stuff."

"Because of me!"

"The Grimm thing or the mate thing?"

"Both!"

"Well, I guess maybe. Maybe not so much the mate thing." Another shrug. "More the Grimm stuff."

Nick paced, then stopped and gave him a hard look. "I'm not the damsel in distress in this!"

"Uh, of course not. He said that?"

"No! But by going out like an avenging angel he tells me just what he thinks about me!"

"You're making this about yourself, Nick. Stop that. Renard is the highest ranking creature in this city and trapping him like that, trying to take him out like a bunch of meth-head gangbangers…?"

"Because he's protecting me."

"Because he's protecting everyone."

Nick slumped back, fist banging against the wall in a soft rhythm.

"Nick, it's not because he thinks you're weak," Monroe tried to soothe ruffled feathers.

It wasn't the first time. Those two were always fighting, it seemed. The arguments were heated and sharp when it came to Grimm work and creature politics. Monroe had been caught in one such argument and made a quick retreat. When it came to Nick's police work, the lines were clearly drawn as captain and detective. Outside those lines, things tended to blur.

But as much as they argued, as much as their dominant sides clashed, they were good together, he had to confess. They needed this and it was an outlet for emotions that would otherwise eat at their minds.

"His position was attacked," the blutbad added sensibly. "He's a regnant and he can't just ignore that. It would leave him open for another attack."

Nick sighed and raked a hand through his dark hair, tousling it. "Yeah, most likely. I just…"

"And he can't take you with him."

The gray eyes widened a little, then Nick smiled briefly. Monroe shrugged.

"Don't have to be a mindreader to know you're itching for payback. Heck, I want to kick those bastards' asses for their audacity!"

Not that Monroe was a fan of aristocrats and royalty. The Grimm community had little of those. Packs had alphas, prides had a leader, flocks, too. Some creatures lived in tribe-like structures, but royalty was an old hat.

Not so regnants.

They were feared and powerful and respected. Yes, Monroe understood where Renard was coming from.

"Coffee?" he offered, not-so-subtly sniffing the air that smelled of stale take-out coffee.

"Sure. Uhm, you can go and do your Pilates. Sorry I interrupted."

Monroe shrugged. His whole schedule was already busted. He could last a day without his regimen, he knew. Helping the two alpha males work out their relationship problems was almost as good as physical exertion.

And just when had he become their personal Agony Aunt?

He smiled to himself as he prepared his perfectly blended coffee, keeping half an eye and ear on the Grimm in his home. Nick had quieted down, had taken the newspaper and was reading through it.

Renard would probably still get an earful, but at least the heat of the moment was gone.

* * *

It was around sunrise that Sean Renard stood in an expensive apartment that had been decorated with impeccable taste – and now looked like a slaughter house.

Cold eyes surveyed what he had done, the primal side inside him pleased with the outcome. His ribs had broken again, but he didn't care. His wrist complained after swinging a scythe and using his talons. The blood on him was mostly of the enemy. The little he was bleeding himself didn't matter.

This was his message.

He knew it would be heard.

Taking out his cell he called Adalind. She had a job to do.

Then the regnant silently slid out of the apartment, the building, down the street to where his car was parked.

* * *

Nick was sitting in the kitchen, reading the paper, when Renard got home. He could have gone to his own place, cleaned up, pretend nothing like what he had done had happened.

He didn't.

He knew his mate, his mate knew him. There was no hiding and after showing the young Grimm just what exactly he was, he had never hidden anything of the like again.

"You're bleeding," Nick stated neutrally, running a sharp eye over the taller man.

"It's nothing."

It got him a stern look, dark brows lowering over expressive eyes, and Nick shook his head. "Off," he only said, gesturing at the jacket and shirt.

Renard smiled briefly but did what had been asked, well, ordered. He only winced once when Nick palpated the once-again broken ribs, then waited until the other man had cleaned the cuts. The rather nice smelling salve Monroe had in all likelihood brought over was smeared onto his injuries, then Nick stood back, glaring just a little more.

"You had to do it again."

"I made a point."

The exasperation and annoyance was clear to read and the Grimm snarled a curse.

"We've both fought our battles before we even slept together," Renard stated. "I never backed down, neither did you. This was my line to draw. Your involvement wasn't needed."

The gray eyes narrowed and the dangerous air around Nick was a sight to behold. Finally the Grimm relented and Nick leaned back against the kitchen counter, arms crossed in front of his chest.

"This isn't going to be an endless confrontation, I hope. Of the stupid kind."

"No. The ferat have hopefully learned their lesson."

"And if not?"

Renard let fangs show for a moment. "A regnant doesn't always have to be there for punishment to be dealt, Nick. You know I have trusted people."

"Yeah, I met some of them." Nick sounded neutral.

"This was the last of my direct involvement."

"Uh-huh."

Ignoring the ribs, Renard approached his mate, leaning down to brush a reverent kiss over his forehead, then the bridge of his nose, his temple.

"My life is yours, Grimm. Yours is mine. I'm not going to throw this chance away."

Nick's expression was fiery, intense, fierce. The regnant shuddered. "You're mine," the Grimm stated softly, voice quiet and even and made of steel.

The regnant bowed his head slightly, smiling more. Nick regarded him silently, then raised his brows.

"How are your wings?" he changed topic.

Renard blinked.

"They're your weak spot."

The regnant bristled.

"Show me," Nick ordered.

It was hard not to obey. He wasn't a pet or a tamed animal, but Nick's no-nonsense order had him follow.

And he did. After slipping out of his shirt and catching Nick's appreciative look. He knew his mate liked what he saw. The wings unfolded as the creature traits rose and Renard kept his back to Nick, an incredible show of trust. Nick inspected the leathery appendages. His touch was light, painless, almost a little arousing as he checked the structure, the curve of bone and sinews.

"The left one still looks a little bit messy."

"Wings are harder to heal." Renard turned around, folding the huge wings. "But they'll be fine."

Nick nodded and caressed the right wing, then let his hand drop. Their eyes met and Renard changed back, ignoring the renewed flare of discomfort.

"Get some rest," the Grimm only said. "I've got a few things to do."

Renard smiled. "I will. After breakfast."

With that he settled at the kitchen table and poured himself a coffee. Nick shook his head with a smile and tossed the shirt at him. Renard caught it and chuckled.

* * *

Nothing of the ordeal Renard had gone through showed when he was back to work on Monday. Dressed impeccably, tie straight, shirt pressed, clean shave, he was a model of control. Nick didn't let anything of it show either. He worked his latest, non-creature case, wrote up his report, went on witness interviews and crime scene locations with his partner, and even managed to leave on time in the evening.

To meet with his mate.

Renard had had an official meeting and when the Grimm walked into the regnant's home, he immediately knew what kind of meeting it had been.

The political wesen-related kind.

He raised an eyebrow.

Renard just smiled as he tossed his tie. "Stop the worrying. I simply made my point."

"Which would be…?"

"Respect my territory or lose another dozen of their kind."

Nick frowned.

"I told them I did what they asked," Renard continued smoothly, reaching out to wrap an arm around his mate's waist to pull him in close. Nick went without a fight. "I leashed you."

"You did what?"

Indignation rose inside him. Leashed?

Renard brushed a kiss over one temple, the green eyes sparkling with mischief. "Of course. You're my bonded, my mate. You're mine." A hint of fangs showed.

Nick stiffened.

"Their terms were to take control of you. In their eyes, I did."

Nick stared at him, then suddenly felt a smile cross his lips. "Control, huh? You think they'll really believe it?"

"Regnant's don't fake a mating, Grimm," came the soft rumble. "This is real. The consequences would be… fatal for them."

"If they attacked me?"

"Yes."

Nick pulled the taller man into a hard kiss. "Scheming bastard."

"Hm, I take that as a compliment."

"I'm not so sure it is one. And they'll find new and improved ways to get to me, Sean."

"Not if the ferat knows what's good for them."

Nick had learned little by little that while Sean Renard was a man of the twenty-first century, the regnant was deeply rooted in an old European line of aristocrats and royalty. The creature was feral, primal, claiming not simply territory but also his life mate. The ferat would either respect it or pay the price in blood.

Sean kissed him again, softer, filled with a lot of emotions they rarely spoke about. Nick let his fingers brush over cloth-covered skin, unerringly finding the spots where just two days ago terrible injuries had brought the regnant to his knees.

"Got a few leads to follow," he murmured when they parted. "Sorry."

"Anything you want to share?"

"Not if you want to tell anyone that you have no idea what I'm up to."

Renard smirked. "I never do anyway."

Nick chuckled and brushed a caress over his ribs as he stepped away. "See you later."

Then he left, heading over to pick up Monroe because the blutbad would go with him, as usual. Being Renard's mate hadn't change that. Nothing had changed, except for his lovelife.

Monroe's not-so-subtle sniff and eye-roll told him what he needed to know about smelling like Renard. Not that it was truly a revelation. Even without sleeping together, Renard was imprinted on the Grimm. Few creatures reacted to it, more astounded by a Grimm in their midst than the scent he was carrying.

"Let's go," Monroe muttered and pulled him along. "You owe me a beer. And dinner."

Nick chuckled. He would never stop owing the blutbad, but he didn't mind. And this time paying for his debts also included staking out a suspect.

* * *

The call came at work; through an untraceable, disposable cell phone he had found on his desk. It had been delivered to him by mail.

Renard looked at the blocked number and smiled humorlessly, then picked up.

"I believe you got the message," he said pleasantly.

"I believe we did." It was the same voice he had heard before, with a French accent, male, sounding a little pissed off this time.

Good.

"Try this again and I will come after every single one of you."

There was silence. "You made your point."

"I sure did. Just be glad I'm not taking it any further. Stay out of my territory."

There was more silence, then the line went dead. Renard regarded the cell with disgust, then slid it back into the envelope it had been delivered in.

When he looked up, Nick was standing in the doorway, gray eyes knowing. He was holding a report.

"We got a lead," he only said, all-professional, not even hinting at what he might have heard. "Hank and I are heading to the wind park to talk to our main witness again."

Renard nodded. "You do that."

Nick remained where he was a moment longer, then gave his mate a quick smile. That told Renard he had heard enough.

Then he was gone.

Work called.

And at work they weren't mates or a Grimm and a regnant. They were Captain Sean Renard and Detective Nick Burckhardt.

Renard took the folder and browsed through it, familiarizing himself with the latest case, a murder at the wind park, which seemed to have nothing at all to do with any kind of creature; so far.

Nick and Hank were on it.

And he had his own work to take care of.

Business as usual.


End file.
